Moments That Pass Into Eternity
by Coffee-is-Life
Summary: The Third and Final Installment of the Second Kalmar Union Trilogy (I swear). Mnay questions are answered. Rating may go up; rated currently for Denmark's language.
1. Prologue

Denmark knocked again.

And a third time.

And a fourth time.

Still no answer.

"For fuck's sake, Faroes, I know you're in there! It's important!"

The door was violently wrenched open. "What?"

A young woman- no, a girl, really- stood in the doorway. She wore mostly white, with a purple scarf. She did not look to be more than 16.

"Faroes, look, I need your help."

"Well, that's a new one. Never needed my help before, Old Man."

"Oh, come on! He's your father!"

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have left me in such…incapable hands, now should he have?"

"That's not his fault."

"It's his as much as anyone's."

"Look, if you don't come to his birthday party, I'll ground you."

"Oh, now you'll be a responsible adult?"

"I'm quite serious. How would you like me to impose an embargo on your trade?"

"You-you wouldn't!"

"_Don't test me_."

"Uh, fine. But I bet it's going to be the lamest thing ever, since you're throwing the party, Old Man."

"As long as you're there, I know it will be the most enjoyable evening I have ever had." It was really ludicrous, Denmark's acidic and sickly sweet repartee with his …almost daughter (?). Adopted child…? What even was the politically correct term?

Well, whatever. The point was that he fully intended to have every single one of Norway's kids at his birthday party. If it killed him. Or if they killed him.

Every. Single. One.


	2. Chapter 1

It always took several moments to turn the alarm clock off in the mornings. Sometimes full minutes, though that was rare. It really did depend on the severity of Norway's insomnia.

This particular morning, Norway let it ring a few times before pulling himself out of bed. (Per Sweden's suggestion, he'd put the clock on the other side of the room, so he'd actually get up.) Why Denmark wouldn't let him keep a coffee maker in the room was a mystery.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what he had to do today. Did he have time to catch a few extra minutes of sleep?

What was even the date?

Oh, right, his birthday.

The parade, the reception afterwards…it was far too much to contemplate this early in the morning.

He started to crawl back into his bed, but it seemed that his bed-mate had woken up.

"Why did you set the alarm clock, love?" Denmark mumbled, only half-awake.

"Because I have things I need to do today." Norway pulled the covers over his head.

"Your boss called before you got home last night."

Norway made an angry noise at the back of his throat, clearly annoyed that he hadn't been told sooner.

"He said you had the day off."

"WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME?"

"We were…busy. Kinda slipped my mind."

Norway felt his face go warm.

"But now that we're both awake, do you want to take a car trip?"

"Where?"

"It's a surprise. I'll make some coffee while you get dressed."

"Fine."

"You're going to suffocate if you stay under there," Denmark said as he pulled the covers off Norway.

"Idiot."

He chuckled. "Love you, too, Norge."


	3. Chapter 2

Personally, Norway could have done without the blindfold; however, Denmark had insisted that the location of their outing be a surprise.

And Denmark knew when he tried peeking.

So, Norway had no idea where they were going. Denmark was driving is an eastward direction, so…Sweden's house?

Not likely.

Well, whatever. He'd find out when they got there, he supposed. Good things came to those who waited, after all.

Finally, the car came to a stop.

The engine was turned off, the driver's door opened and closed, footsteps crunched on gravel, his door opened. "Hey, Norge, we're here."

"No, really."

"Bet you can't guess where we are."

"Somewhere east of Oslo. Can I take this blindfold off yet?"

"Not yet. Here, let me help you out of the car."

Norway let that idiot Dane help him out of the car (he couldn't see, and he never had good balance in the first place) and up what he assumed was a driveway. Of some sort.

"How about now?" Norway asked in a caustic tone as Denmark paused, apparently to look for something incredibly jangly (keys? Keys.)

Norway could hear the sound of a door being unlocked, and then he was led inside.

Gentle hands removed the blindfold. "Happy birthday love."

Norway could not believe his eyes.


	4. Chapter 3

_ Once, long before things had become difficult, before there were words that were best left unsaid, Norway had a home of his own. It was simple, small: large enough for two people to live together comfortably, if they didn't mind having little privacy. But in those days, who did?_

_ Then, things began to change. Humans grew greedier, and with them, their representatives. He was called to another port, far to the north, where he lived when he wasn't ruling the high seas._

_ Another era came: one of pestilence. He grew weak. His home was abandoned. A new place was offered, and he had no choice to accept. It was the first time he'd lived away from his own land. It was not home. _

_ A few more centuries passed, and he seemed to live in an ever-confusing mess of new houses and new company. The familiar faces were pained by loss and grief. _

_ Finally, FINALLY, when he thought at last that he would cease to exist, a chance was given to him: freedom. _

_ And that chance was cruelly snatched from his grasp. _

_ Almost a century went by…and then, he was given another chance. And he did not let this one go._

_ When he arrived on the shores of his own land for the first time as a free and independent nation in -what? Six hundred years?- he was told that a house had been built for him._

_ He had not expected to like it. _

_ He loved it. It became a symbol for him, it's severe Victorian austerity softened by the wildflowers that grew in the gardens (unlike Sweden, he'd never had much interest in gardening)._

_ And he'd loved it for 35 years, until the Nazis blew it up._

_ Another house had been built for him, but it was not the same. Too much function, and not enough form. But it had been enough for a man living by himself._

_ More than years passed. A lot happened, of course, but here is not the place to recount it. _

_ That house stood until it was destroyed- this time by Americans._

_ And, for the last four years, he'd lived in an apartment not too far from downtown Oslo._

But now, here he was, standing in the entryway of his lovely Victorian house that he never thought he'd see again after 1940.

"How-?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, but-" Norway pulled his eyes away from the architecture. "It's perfect. Thank you."

"Are you crying?"

"No."

"Would you like to see the rest of the house?"

"Yes."

"After you."

Norway stood on tip-toes and kissed Denmark on the cheek. "I love you."


End file.
